Not Again
by JayJay96
Summary: Justin is attacked while walking home one night by a group of homophobes. I suck at summaries. Set in both Justin and Brian's POV. Early season 4, after Kinnetic but before cancer. Will be multi-chapter. Pairing: Justin/Brian, of course. T for language.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Queer as Folk, or any of the characters, as much as I'd like to.

Reviews would be much appreciated :)

**Not Again**

*** Justin POV

I walk down the street, shoving my hands in my pockets. It's cold; my breath creates delicate puffs of smoke in the air. I speed up, wanting to get back to the loft as soon as possible. I'm maybe eight minutes away. It's late, almost four thirty in the morning. I've had late nights studying for PIFA before, but this one really drained me. All I want to do is crawl in bed with Brian, who is probably waiting for me. Or not; he might be with a trick.

The streets are mainly empty, but I hear footsteps echoing not far off. I whip my head over my shoulder like a paranoid child, but see nobody. I need to relax. Uncomfortably, I shift my backpack. It's stuffed with art history books and my back aches from carrying them almost as much as my head aches from reading them.

Suddenly, I am grabbed from behind and pulled into an alley. A hands covers my mouth, muffling my scream of shocked terror. Fear races through my body along with adrenaline. I am roughly pushed to the ground, and cruel laughter echoes in my ears.

"Faggot." The insult is tossed at me carelessly, as if I don't even matter enough to properly insult. I blink fiercely in the darkness, trying to distinguish the shadowy forms in front of me. There are five guys, as far as I can see. Because of the lack of light, I can't be certain, but they all look to be a few years older than me.

They surround me, menacingly. I realize how hopeless this situation is. I'm alone, there's no one on the street to help me, and I'm way outnumbered. Shit. I think about pulling out my cellphone, but I think better of it. I wouldn't have time to dial anything before the shitheads smashed it. And then smashed me.

My internal panic must show on my face, for the guy who pushed me, who appears to be the unofficial "leader," laughs again, and says "Awww, is the little homo afraid? Is the fucking faggot frightened?"

I try to stand up and immediately I am rewarded with a sharp kick to the ribs. I collapse, curling around myself in pain, refusing to make a sound. The only thing I can think is Brian. Brian Brian Brian. I need you.

The ringleader speaks again: "Let's give this queer a lesson he'll never forget." And suddenly they are on me, kicking, punching, raining blows everywhere. I can't think, I can't breathe. I feel darkness coming closer, closer. The last thing I see in my head is Brian's face.

*** Brian POV

As I stare out the window, I take a long drag on my cigarette. I exhale in slow puffs, my face blank while my mind is on fire. Where the fuck is he? I know he was studying for some big exam, but jesus christ he should've been home by now. I don't know why I'm worrying. I should be off fucking instead. Sure, I had a trick in the backroom at Babylon, but I didn't feel like bringing one back to the loft tonight. I just felt like fucking Justin.

But I've been here for an hour and a half, and he hasn't come home. Goddammit, I shouldn't be worried, but I am. The little twat said he would be back by three. I mean, he could be off tricking, but I doubt it. He would've called or something. I turn away from the window and begin pacing the loft. Maybe I should just go to sleep. But I can't; I know I won't be able to sleep until I know he's safe. And that bothers the shit out of me.

Putting out my cigarette, I grab my phone and call Mikey. Maybe he went over to work on Rage with him.

"Hey Mikey" I say when he answers.

"Brian, what the fuck?" He says, sleepily. "Its four thirty in the morning."

"Aw, did I wake you up?"

"Uh… YEAH."

"Well, I just wanted to know if Justin was there. Judging by the fact that you were asleep, I'm guessing not."

"Um no he's not here… is something wrong?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Mikey. Go back to sleep. Or better yet, now that your awake, go fuck the professor."

"Brian, I…" I hang up. Dammit. I try calling Deb, Emmett, Mel and Linds, and even Ted. They were all asleep, except Emmett who apparently was having quite a good time before I interrupted him "Where the fuck are you, Sunshine?" I mutter out loud to myself. I try his phone for the hundredth time, but I get voicemail once again.

Okay, that's it. I slip on a shirt, grab a jacket, put on my shoes and leave, determined to find him. And when I do, he's gonna be in deep shit trouble for not answering his phone.

To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

***Justin POV

I leave the blackness and return to the light, just barely. I can feel the dark pulling me back, calling to me, begging me to return to its ignorant and painless safety. The blows have stopped, and my attackers have fled, leaving me here alone. Nothing but pain registers; every part on my body feels as if it has been beaten or trampled in some way. I try to open my eyes but fail, not having the energy to do even that.

In my state of semi-consciousness thoughts drift in and out freely, beyond my control. Where is Brian? Did he notice that I'm missing? Does he care? Don't be stupid. Of course he cares. Doesn't he? My heart gives a lurch, but nothing compared to the pain of the rest of my body. I wonder if I am going to die.

I take in a short, shallow, breath, which catches in my throat as I gasp at the pain. Even breathing is hard. When I was bashed by Chris Hobbes, I was immediately out. I didn't remember a thing until much later. It's a thousand times worse to be awake, to feel everything at once. To lie here, unable to move, helpless. Nothing has ever made me feel more powerless and more alone.

My pain mingles with hatred as anger rushes through my brain. Who the fuck do those guys think they are? God? They have no right to determine if what I do or who I am is right or wrong. Especially not with their goddamn fists. Asshole mother fucking…

I lose my train of thought as dizziness overtakes me, and I let out a quiet cry of pain. I know I won't be awake for much longer, that I will return to the darkness. And maybe that won't be so bad. At least then I won't feel anymore. I'll be numb and I can escape everything in soothing oblivion.

Just before the blackness claims me though, I hear loud footsteps approaching, and a cry of shock. I can't process what is happening; there is someone hear, someone touching me, someone talking to me, but their words come out warped and strange. Before I pass out I manage to open my eyes, and once again the last thing I see before I slip away is Brian's face.

***Brian POV

I walk swiftly, my eyes searching. He told me he was studying, so I know the direction we would've walked back from. I figure that's my best bet of finding him. He probably just got caught up studying, and his phone died or something. Yeah. That's it.

So far, everything is quiet and still. I sigh, and consider turning back. Why the fuck am I doing this, anyway? By the time I get back he'll probably be there already. I am about to give up and go home when I hear a slight moaning sound. I start to move faster, towards the alley where the sound came from. I turn quickly, and am stopped in my tracks.

Ice covers my heart. He is there, lying there, covered in blood. I am taken back, back to that parking garage, back to baseball bats and silken scarves and cold white hospitals. And I am frozen. Not again. But I break free from this spell of memories and rush forward, knowing that right now he is the only thing that matters. An uncontrollable cry of shock and fear escapes my lips and I kneel by him. My chest feels as though it is constricted, a heavy weight pressed down upon it. I cannot breathe or think.

"Justin!" I call. "Justin!" Oh god. Please, please wake up. He looks dead, oh god he looks dead. My mind swirls and I call out more desperately. "Justin! Justin wake up please!" His eyes open, and my heart stops. For a second his ice blue eyes pierce mine, and for a second I can breathe. But he closes them again. "No, no, Justin you have to stay awake. Justin you have to- Christ!" I don't know what to do. Everything is bright colors and dark shadows and I just can't fucking breathe. Luckily I remember to pull out my cellphone and call 911.

As soon as someone answers, I hurriedly yell out what's happened, and where I am. The operator tries to ask more questions, but I hang up with a "Just get a fucking ambulance. Now." I turn back to Justin and my heart is in my throat and my brain is misfiring and there is so, so much blood.

"Justin," I whisper, grabbing his hand "It's gonna be okay. I know it will." I am lying through my teeth, but who the fuck cares. He probably can't hear me anyway. "You're gonna be okay." I think I say this to reassure myself more than him. He has to be okay, he just has to be. I think about praying to god, but I think better of it. What kind of a sick god would let this happen to Justin… again? I close my eyes against a sharp sting of tears. Brian Kinney doesn't do crying. Well, hell, Brian Kinney doesn't do worry either, and here I am, fucking worrying. What's one more broken rule? Resigned, I let go, and I feel the tears slide down my cheeks.

I look down at him, helpless. There is nothing I can do, except wait. He looks so broken, like a toy a vindictive child got tired of and decided to smash into a wall repeatedly, just for kicks. His hair is matted with blood, blood which is pouring from everywhere and staining his body crimson red. I desperately try to think of some way I can help, but my mind isn't functioning properly. My body is shutting down as well; the weight on my chest is only getting heavier, and I feel like I've been knifed in the gut. The knife twists in my stomach as minutes pass, and he doesn't stir. The only thing that slightly calms me is his shallow breathing. It's barely there, but it means he's still alive. I am still holding his hand when the ambulance arrives.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

***Brian POV

Everything is painfully familiar; the walls, the chairs. I wish it wasn't. I wish I didn't have to be here today as much as I wish I hadn't had to be here last time. I can still feel the phantom stroke of Mikey's hand on the back of my neck, the traces of tears that refused to stay fucking put. Jennifer will be here soon. I had to force myself to call her. I knew it was necessary, but for some reason my fingers didn't want to dial the phone. It was as if to talk about it, to let someone know would make it real. It would mean that this is really happening, that I am here. Again.

But I haven't called anyone else. Earlier this evening it was so easy, so simple to call them. Casual conversation, with little weight and little consequence. But I don't know if I can take the shocked gasps, the oh my gods, the crying. It's all too much. And yet I know they have to know, need to know. Not calling them is not an option.

I call Mikey. He answers, even groggier than before. I glance at my watch; it's 5:15 a.m. "Mikey, Justin's been attacked. Just get here." I hang up, and suddenly feel exhausted. The night's events repeat over and over in my mind. I can't stop them. It's like a scratched DVD that's stuck, replaying the same scene over and over. And I can't find the fucking remote to turn it off.

As I walk over to the receptionist, she looks up at me, and gives me a tight-lipped smile. "Can I help you?" she asks, her tone making it clear that asking for information for the seventh time in fifteen minutes is not going to get me on her good side.

"Look, I just want some information, okay? Christ, this isn't the CIA."

"No, it isn't," she simpers, "but patient information is given out to family members only. And you said you aren't family."

I sigh. "Look, if you could just-"

"I'm sorry, but _what _exactly are you to the kid anyway?" I stare at her for a minute, then walk away, unable to answer. God, why does everything have to be so fucking complicated? I return to my seat to wait, my head in my hands. I am still sitting this way minutes later when Jennifer rushes in. I look up, recognizing her voice as she frantically speaks to the receptionist. I get up and walk up next to her as she talks to the woman.

"Yes, yes I'm his mother. Just tell me what's going on!" She stops and takes a deep breath which hitches in her throat. She notices me and gives me a small nod. The receptionist glares at me.

"This guy has been bothering me for ten minutes. Do you want him to listen to-"

"Yes, of course!" Just tell me what's happening!" Jennifer looks as if she's going to burst into tears at any moment. The receptionist's fingers fly across her keys, and after a minute she looks up at us.

"Justin Taylor is currently in surgery. When he comes out, we will get the doctor to come talk to you and update you on his condition.

Jennifer looks at her, wide-eyed. "You can't tell us any more?"

"No, but I'll alert you when the doctor is ready to speak with you." We walk back to the chairs and sit. Jennifer starts to sob, and I wish I could comfort her. But I can't, goddamnit. Frustration fills me. I want to know how he is, and I want to know now. I just try to breathe. I try not to let my fear overtake my brain.

Mikey runs in, Ben trailing behind. I see him before he sees me, watch his eyes searching the room until he meets my gaze. His face is full of pity, and I look away. I don't want anyone's goddamn pity. He sits down next to me, and I feel his brown eyes staring imploringly at me. But I won't lift my head to look at him.

"Have you heard anything? What's going on? What happened?"

"Not really, I don't know, don't want to talk about it."

"Brian…"

Jennifer interrupts. "They said that Justin is in surgery, and that we'll be informed of everything once he gets out. As for what happened, I don't really know that myself." She turns to stare at me, and I know I have to speak. But my throat feels rusted shut. I manage to pry my mouth open and force the words out.

"Justin was really late coming home. So I went looking for him. I found him in an alley, lying on the ground. He was…" I stop. Why can't I fucking talk about it? What's wrong with me? "He was beaten and bleeding. He was awake for a moment, but then he passed out." I shudder, recalling those brilliant blue eyes snapping open, so full of pain, locking onto mine with some indescribable force.

Jennifer and Mikey sit back in their chairs, stunned. Jennifer starts sobbing all over again, while Mikey turns to look at me. "Have you called everyone else?" he asks.

"No."

"Jesus, Brian, they need to know!"

I pinch the bridge of my nose, willing my emotions to stop their violent struggle for dominance. "Look, Mikey, could you just call them?" I reply, tiredly. His frustration quickly changes into pity. Again. I look away. Again.

"Fine." He pulls out his phone, and begins to dial. I get up and walk away, for some reason not wanting to listen. As I walk past the receptionist, she stops me.

"What?" I ask, annoyed.

"Justin Taylor just got out of surgery. His doctor will come speak to you all shortly." I feel uneasy and hopeful at the same time. There's a question I need to ask though, right now.

"He's… he's alive, right?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you anything. The doctor will be here soon." The dread in my stomach threatens to overcome the newfound hope, and I want to throw up.

The little twat better be okay.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I know it's been awhile since I updated. I had hell week for my school show, and then spring break. I will update quicker from now on.

Reviews would be greatly appreciated :)

Chapter Four

*** Brian POV

The exhaustion I've been holding back for the past few hours hits me full force. My eyes start to close, but I quickly jerk awake. I can't go to sleep; not until I know for sure that he's okay.

"We've done all that we can do for him, Mr. Kinney. We don't know the extent of the internal damage yet. All we can do now is wait for him to wake up," the doctor had said. So that's what I've been doing. Waiting. Endless fucking waiting. And the little shit won't wake up. I've been sitting in his room staring at his unconscious face for three hours, willing him to open his eyes.

Jennifer sits on the other side of Justin, across from me. For the first hour she couldn't stop crying. I tried to comfort her, but I've always been awkward at that sort of thing. But mainly all I've been doing is sitting in this goddamn chair, silent. I haven't spoken in over two hours.

Mikey, Debbie, and the others are all sitting in the waiting room. The doctor said only one person could wait in the room with Justin, but Jennifer and I tag-teamed him until he finally gave in. He looks so pale, so lifeless. Like a sun that's been drained of all its rays; it's sunshine gone.

I want to reach out, to touch him, to hold his hand. But I can't; it's so lesbionic, so… caring. So not me. But I literally have to fight to keep my hands at my sides. The monitor he's hooked to beeps loudly and I nearly jump out of my chair. I glance at it, then at Justin, then at the doorway to see if any doctors or nurses are coming. Nothing. I guess it was meaningless. I try to settle back down, but I'm rattled. Everything seems to set me on edge.

Around fifteen minutes later I begin to drift off into sleep again. I try to resist, but it overpowers me. Just before I succumb I hear a slight moaning, and I jolt up like I've been burned. Justin shifts a little, his eyes still closed. Jennifer and I both lean closer to him with nervous anticipation. "Come on, Justin," I whisper. "Wake up. Open your damn eyes." And he does.

They are filled with confusion, and with pain. For a second I am filled with the insane urge to kiss him until the pain goes away. But I squash that crazy impulse down, and instead just breathe a sigh of relief. Jennifer bursts into tears again and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight hug. I sit back in my chair, feeling all the tension I've been holding release. He's awake. He's awake.

*** Justin POV

I open my eyes and immediately I am blinded by bright white light. I try to look around but I don't really have the energy to turn my throbbing head. I hear somebody burst into tears and then grab me tightly. When she pulls away I can see that it's my mother, her eyes red-rimmed from her tears and exhaustion.

"You scared me, you twat," I hear Brian say from right, his voice strangely constricted, as if it hurts him to talk.

"Sorry." I rasp out. I get up the strength and move my head, glancing about the room. I can immediately tell it's a hospital room. Shit; why am I in the hospital? My thoughts move slowly as if they are weighted down. But suddenly, as if a wall breaks, it all comes flooding back. The hits, the jeers. Lying cold in the alley, alone. I flinch, struck again by an imaginary hand.

"Justin?" Brian question, confusion seeping through his tone. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, m'fine. Been better though." I try to attempt a fake laugh, but it comes out a wince of pain.

My mom leans over me, worried. She grabs my hand and says, "I'm going to go get the doctor, okay honey? I'm gonna tell him you're awake."

"Okay, Mom," I reply, and she rushes out of the room. Brian and I sit in slightly uncomfortable silence for awhile, until he clears his throat and speaks.

"What the fuck happened, Sunshine?" Crap. I really don't want to talk about it. I don't even want to think about it. So I give him the simplest answer I can think of.

"I was jumped by a bunch of homophobes." I can tell from his face that he wants more, wants details. But I can't give him any. Not yet. I'm going to have to talk to the police anyways, so he can listen then. Not like they'll do anything anyways. Oh, sure, they'll write down what I say, claim to investigate it. But as soon as I'm gone, they'll shove all the paperwork into the back of a file cabinet and forget all about me. In fact, I don't even really want to talk to them at all. But I know Brian will make me.

"You didn't see them coming?"

"No, they came out of nowhere."

"Christ." All I want is for him to hold me and tell me everything's gonna be okay. Which he would never do. Come on- he's Brian. He doesn't do caring. But after a few minutes of quiet he completely surprises me and grabs my hand. I try to meet his eyes but he avoids my gaze, instead focusing on the floor. I hold onto him with everything I've got. Right now, he feels like the only thing tying me down to reality.


End file.
